


Limelight

by sprinkle_of_cinnamon



Series: Am I Dreaming or is that a Prompt-Based Harringrove Series? [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Basketball Bet, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Billy and El are Bros, Billy is in the Party, Bisexual Steve Harrington, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hawkins Founder Fair is just an excuse for fall vibes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing Clothes, Will Byers & Billy Hargrove Friendship, dunk tank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkle_of_cinnamon/pseuds/sprinkle_of_cinnamon
Summary: Billy roamed the Hawkins Founder Fair to find somewhere to light up that wouldn’t cause an electrical fire.He edged along the side of the set up with more game stands and less rides. Billy amended his statement when he saw Steve Harrington shooting hoops in a pop up basketball stand.No rickety carnie rides, but one, roughly six foot, preppy, wet dream of a ride.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & The Party, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & The Party, Will Byers & Billy Hargrove
Series: Am I Dreaming or is that a Prompt-Based Harringrove Series? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771882
Comments: 9
Kudos: 152





	Limelight

**Author's Note:**

> Stranger Things is Stranger Things and not mine at all. Fic title is a reference to Rush's song Limelight. 
> 
> Prompt: Clothes Sharing (again, whoops).
> 
> Check out [**Bet on It**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094291) (11485 words) by [**toomanysharks**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanysharks) for a different spin on clothes sharing fun with a 5+1 betting premise that gives you next level party shenanigans while featuring oblivious and snarky as hell Billy/Steve. I am still obsessed with the brilliance of the entire D+D scene.

Billy took another drag of his cigarette, unenthused under the tacky, flashing lights at the Hawkins Founder Fair.

His punishment for sneaking out. The way to show he respected the rules, that he respected Neil Hargrove. Billy really fucking didn’t, but he was too tired to fight it, to fight him. He never won when it came to Neil.

The doctors managed to bring him back from the brink of death months ago but he still wasn’t running on full steam.

Starburst scars, vivid and raised, where the fucking thing of nightmares punctured his skin, nearly killed him. A constant reminder. Left him achy, sore, haunted.

Billy figured that would never go away. The things he saw when he closed his eyes, what he did.

Max passed through the front gates, thrilled, trying to figure out where to start. Between the stands selling popcorn, dilapidated rides one loose screw away from an accidental death, and the shitty, rigged games, he didn’t know why.

Billy trudged behind her and doled out tickets when she needed them. Max got off a ride that functionally only spun at a high velocity, her hair wild. He raised his eyebrows at the mess. She just laughed, patting it down.

“The fair’s not that bad,” Max told him, after insisting that she needed a funnel cake. “It’s kind of fun actually.” The powdered sugar went everywhere as she spoke.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real fuckin’ fun,” he said. “Only good part was when that kid skidded all the way down the big slide.”

Max snickered. “And that lady’s shoe fell off on the swings, hitting the guy wearing the pumpkin head,” she added.

“Shit, forgot about that,” Billy said, shaking his head and replaying the image in his head.

Max continued to rip apart her fried dough, glancing around and scoping out the next ride she wanted to get on. “Bet you could absolutely crank one of those teacups,” she mused.

Billy narrowed his eyes at her. “Nice try, Maxine.”

“You’re like, really strong,” she insisted. “You started working out all the time again and you can throw me into the pool as far as you could before. You’d probably spin it fast enough to make me hurl.”

Max looked way too excited by the prospect of vomiting on the teacup ride.

He snorted. “You’re going to hurl because you ate that shady hotdog.”

“Why wait? I want to make it really count,” she said, scooting forward on the bench, eyes wide. “Come on, Billy.”

He shook his head. “I’m not riding the teacups with you,” Billy told her flatly.

She sighed, glaring at him as she ate the rest of the funnel cake before her expression shifted to something more conniving. “Okay, but what if I tell Neil you’re tutoring El? Then you’d have a reason to get out of the house. He can’t even get mad because she’s the Sheriff’s daughter.”

Billy scoffed. “Doesn’t matter what I fucking do. He’s always mad.”

“He’s an asshole,” Max agreed, nose wrinkling. “This would help though and you don’t actually need to tutor her.”

He kind of appreciated the gesture, even though she only offered to con him into riding the damn teacups. These days, Max helped him out with Neil more than he wanted to admit.

They fought their way to a better place. He almost didn’t hate staying home with her around. It felt like a different life from the one where they both spat out the word ‘step’ before mentioning their connection, like their parents doomed them.

He might actually kind of like the brat.

Billy mulled the offer over, trying to pin down where she pulled the scheme from. “Does she actually need one?” he frowned.

El, for better or worse, knew him. Really knew him because she went all the way inside his head.

Climbed in there and dragged him out with her.

He didn’t think he deserved it. She did.

It was hard to argue with a superpowered, pre-teen filled with righteous indignation about the value of your self-worth after you saved her life, inadvertently proving her point.

“Well, yeah,” Max admitted. “She grew up in that messed-up lab, but Hopper’s enrolling her next year, so she needs to get caught up.”

“I could do it for real,” Billy shrugged. Max paused on her last bite, watching him, amused. “Then Neil can’t catch me in a lie,” he added, so she’d stop looking at him like that. He only offered to cover his own ass, not to help.

“You don’t have to pretend to be shitty,” Max told him.

He bared his teeth, flipping her off. “Who’s pretending?”

Max tossed the plate in the trash. “You,” she said brightly, not backing down from the call out.

“You let me listen to the Moving Pictures cassette the entire way here even though you like A Farewell to Kings better and you didn’t even try to switch it,” she pointed out.

It was whatever, not that big a deal. Billy liked Rush fine but Max fucking loved them for no discernible reason.

She brushed off the powdered sugar still stuck to her hands. “Sounds like we got a deal. Time for the teacups!”

Billy made Max’s wish come true, but thankfully, she managed to wait until the ride ended to hurl. “That was awesome,” she announced, taking the napkins Billy offered as she wiped at her mouth.

“There’s something wrong with you,” he told her, but she just laughed. Then Max swished a mouthful of water and marched off to the next unstable ride.

The vomiting must have taken some toll because she chose a game instead.

“This is rigged,” she muttered angrily, trying to hit the balloons on the wall for the third time and missing. “Stupid, tampered darts.”

The guy running the booth just smacked his gum, staring off at nothing and ignoring her complaints. “Seriously,” she insisted, turning to Billy. “You try.”

He rolled his eyes and took the proffered dart to shut her up. The first throw went left for no reason. “See?” she demanded and Max was definitely not wrong.

The darts weren’t standard issue. Someone messed with them to throw the game or maybe they were fine, fifty years ago, when the fair first bought them.

“Gotta play their game but better,” Billy told her, keeping his voice low so the guy couldn’t hear him.

She frowned in confusion, watching as he adjusted for the left lean on his second try and popped a yellow balloon. Billy slapped down another handful of tickets and nailed the next five shots, before waving Max closer.

“Try again,” he told her. She threw the dart and it swung too far left, like before. “They veer, you need to adjust.”

Max nodded resolutely as she lined up her next shot. Then she moved her arm further to the right before launching the dart. It connected with the board, popping a red balloon.

She turned to him, bouncing on her heels. “Did you see that?”

Billy nodded and gave her a sarcastic thumbs up, but the corner of his mouth pulled upwards as she went again and popped another balloon, purple this time.

“Pick your prize,” the attendant grumbled when their tickets ran out. The guy needed to replace a large number of balloons on the board and looked distinctly unhappy about it.

Billy waved at the wall, glancing towards Max. “Get whatever. I don’t want any of this shit.”

Max put her hands on her hips as she inspected the options before pointing to a giant, stuffed clown fish. The guy tossed it down. She held it up, before nodding, as if pleased with her choice.

“Reminds me of home,” she said, turning to Billy to show him. “Also, you, kind of.”

He shot her a look. “Get it? Because it’s a clown,” Max said, laughing at her own joke.

Billy flicked the straw in his apple cider at her and Max stuck out her tongue. Then she perked up.

“Lucas! Will!” Max called, catching sight of Sinclair and Byers at a booth where you tossed ping pong balls into glass bowls.

Both boys turned around, waving as they spotted Max. Billy followed her through the crowd.

“I like your clown fish,” Lucas said, nodding towards the giant orange monstrosity Max held in her arms.

“Thanks!” she said, holding it up. “Billy and I won him.”

The kids blinked at him in surprise and Billy shrugged. “I saw an opportunity to throw sharp things, I took it.”

Lucas nodded along, turning to Will. “After he apologized for being a raging dick, he chopped firewood with me and my dad. He’s really good with an axe, like a little too good. That’s why I’m dibsing him for any apocalypse team rosters.”

"That's why?" Will asked, skeptical. "I put him on my roster after he held off an inter dimensional monster with only two hands." 

Max rolled her eyes before they widened, catching on the ferris wheel behind the ping pong ball stand. “Oh, we’ve got to go on that!” she said, grabbing Lucas’ sleeve.

They ran ahead and Will sighed before starting towards the ferris wheel. Billy stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, falling into step with him. A mix of red and orange leaves crunched on the ground beneath his boots.

After shooting him a cautious look and turning red when Billy raised his eyebrow, Will turned his head forward again.

“So, how’s it going?” Byers asked, kicking at a stone in the grass.

Billy shook his head, amused. “I’m alive,” he said. “Figuring things out.”

“Do you ever worry that he’s just lying in wait inside you and everyone missed something? That maybe he’s still in there?” Will asked. It felt jarring, hearing him speak the worries aloud that rattled around Billy’s entire being.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I do.”

Will nodded, somewhat relieved. “It sucks,” he mumbled. “Whenever that happens I take a really hot shower. Then after a minute, when my skin is melting off in a normal ‘ow’ way, I feel better because I didn’t black out, so he can’t be in there.”

“Smart,” Billy said. He studied Will as he walked. “He didn’t pick you for the same reason he picked me. You’re a good kid. Nothing he made you do changes that.”

Will stopped walking to stare at him, frowning. “He was strategic. He picked me because I was already there and I’m connected to El and Hop. No one would suspect me. They didn’t for a long time. He picked you because you were an isolated, one-man wrecking crew and that’s what he needed.”

Then he took a breath and pointed a finger at Billy, adamant. “He didn’t pick either of us because of who we are. If I’m still good, so are you.”

Billy eyed his stance. “Big difference, kid. I was never good. Do you know how easy it was for him to use me like that? That it seemed normal?”

Will only stayed quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s not our fault, that’s his. When it’s just you in there? Yeah, sometimes you make bad choices. Everyone does, but you’re not all bad, Billy. El wouldn’t like you so much if you were. She saw everything about you and still likes you.”

Letting out a scoff of a laugh, Billy started walking again. “Don’t know why,” he admitted.

“You’re trying,” Will shrugged. “You’ve always been cool but scary and now we know how you’re weirdly funny and smart and not actually as scary as you pretend to be. Plus, you kind of sacrificed yourself to save her. That’s a lot of brownie points.”

Billy reached out and tapped a careful finger to the back of Will’s neck, to the spot he still scratched at anxiously sometimes. “This place doesn’t deserve you, kid.”

Will grinned as they made it to the ferris wheel. “Get in line, losers!” Max called, waving them over.

“I’ll just wait here,” Will said, shaking his head.

Billy nudged Byers. “I’ll go with you,” he offered with a sigh. “If you want to.” Will smiled gratefully and they got in line with Max and Lucas.

When Billy slid into the plastic bucket, he felt such a strong sense memory of riding the ferris wheel at the beach with his mom that he needed to blink it away.

“Thanks,” Will said next to him, as the ride climbed higher.

Billy glanced over. “Third wheeling sucks,” he shrugged.

“More like ninth wheeling if you count Jonathan and Nance,” Will huffed.

Counting the couples in his head, Billy only got six people total. “How’d you get eight?”

“I added Dustin and Suzie for dramatic effect, even though it’s long distance, radio wheeling,” Will told him.

Billy snorted. “You can pay them back one day.”

“Not likely,” Will mumbled. He darted a quick glance at Billy as if he wasn’t sure he wanted, or needed, to say it. Billy decided to put the kid out of his misery.

“Just because you like guys doesn’t mean you can’t pay them back. You’re not the only one, you know,” he said nonchalant, as if he wasn’t addressing something that made the kid nervous to talk about.

Will deflated a little. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Then he squinted at Billy. “Did you mean ‘you’re not the only one’ like a Hallmark card or--,” he trailed off.

“That I like guys too?” Billy asked. Will nodded. “The second one,” he confirmed.

Will stared out over the fair. “I know I said he was strategic but I really hope the Mind Flayer didn’t go for the cute gay kids on purpose,” he mused. “We already have enough going on. We didn’t need that.”

Billy laughed loudly, surprised and genuine. “We sure did not fuckin’ need that,” he agreed.

“You’re not alone anymore, you know,” Will said to Billy after another moment of quiet, the sounds of the fair drifting around them.

Billy didn’t like to acknowledge it. That meant he had something to lose.

He got roped into dinner at the Byers. Watched movies with El and Max from Family Video when Hopper worked late. Went rollerskating with Lucas after he told Max he’d go to the rink with her but had never strapped a pair of skates on in his life and needed to learn.

He knew how to play Risk after Henderson was horrified he never heard of it. Helped Mike Wheeler with his English papers because the kid did not understand symbolism. Drove Will to Indianapolis for a new Dungeon Master reference guide he rambled about for a month before it came out.

He got high with Jonathan Byers, discussing AC/DC versus Guns ‘n Roses. Picked up Nancy Wheeler at the end of the day because her schedule lined up with his shifts at the garage. He ate toasted peanut butter jelly sandwiches with his legs dangling in Harrington’s pool.

Billy knew he wasn’t alone, not anymore.

They reached the top of the ride, all of Hawkins spread out, twinkling in the night.

After everything, Billy knew he should be scared of the dark because he saw what lived there. He wasn’t. It felt familiar now. He lived it too, lived through it.

Darkness felt like recognition.

“So, can I introduce you to some new music? Or is the Clash the only rock band you’re ever going to listen to?” Billy asked, as the ride started its downward rotation.

“I take recommendations if they’re good ones,” Will sniffed.

When they reached the ground, Max begged off to hang out with the rest of the party. Billy roamed the fair to find somewhere to light up that wouldn’t cause an electrical fire.

He edged along the side of the set up with more game stands and less rides. Billy amended his statement when he saw Steve Harrington shooting hoops in a pop up basketball stand.

No rickety carnie rides, but one roughly six foot, preppy, wet dream of a ride.

Billy watched him miss five shots in a row. Apparently, Steve hadn’t played in a while.

“You’re dropping your elbow, Harrington,” he said.

Steve startled, his next shot missing the shooting alley entirely. The basketball flew into the grass nearby. He valiantly ignored that, then picked up another one, still working under the timer.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, managing to land the next two before he missed on the third.

“Gotta get it up, pretty boy,” Billy drawled.

Steve paused to look at him over his shoulder. “I need to get it up,” he repeated slowly.

Billy flashed him a smug grin. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Think you can get it up for me, Harrington? Promise you’ll score.”

Steve stared at him, brown eyes wide. The timer sounded. He turned back to the game, nose wrinkled. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Steve, man, no offense but you kind of suck. Just because you’re not on the school team anymore doesn’t mean you can’t practice. When’s the last time you shot hoops?” Henderson asked, coming up to the other side of the game with cotton candy bigger than the size of his head.

Grumbling, Steve turned towards him. “How’s that not offensive?”

“I went with couching language because you’re my friend and I love you,” Henderson shrugged. “But you definitely suck.”

Billy laughed and Steve shot him a look.

Henderson peered around Steve to see him. “Oh, hey, Billy. This isn’t really your scene. I assume that only because you’re wearing a badass leather jacket to a family friendly gathering and look like you bench press semi trucks while chain smoking for fun. What brings you to the Hawkins Founder Fair?”

Sometimes Henderson spoke and it seemed like he forgot to take a breath or process anything he actually said.

Billy shrugged. “Brought Max,” he explained. “She’s with the rest of the party,” he said, inclining his head in their general direction.

“Cool,” Henderson said. Then he looked at the basketball hoop. “Oh, wait. Didn’t you guys used to play on the same team?”

Billy let his tongue slip between his lips, slowly trailing his gaze over Steve. He looked good. Dark blue shirt, grey jacket, white sneakers and the jeans that distracted Billy every time he wore them.

“I don’t know, actually. Do we play on the same team, Harrington?”

Steve coughed on nothing at all and Henderson patted him on the back while giving Billy an odd look. “No, I remember now. You totally did. Steve complained about you never wearing a shirt during practice. Glad to see you still don’t know how buttons work. Digging the scars, man.”

Billy kept himself covered up after everything. Tried to hide the evidence of what happened. Then he decided he wasn’t going to let that thing stop him from doing whatever the fuck he wanted to do.

He survived and he already hid enough, didn’t want to hide that too.

The first time he walked into Family Video, his shirt almost entirely open, Robin clapped.

“That’s more like it,” she said, as he gave her a salute. Harrington dropped an entire stack of VHS tapes immediately upon seeing him.

“Thanks,” Billy said, smirk widening as Harrington gave Henderson a pointed look that clearly meant ‘stop talking’. The kid remained oblivious.

“I bet he played dirty, didn’t he?” Henderson asked Steve, inclining his head towards Billy.

“Oh my God,” Steve said, tugging a hand through his hair. He let it go longer these days, waving back in a way that made him kind of windswept and stupidly beautiful.

“Dustin, shut up,” Steve said, in a pleading tone.

Henderson munched on his cotton candy, face furrowed in confusion. “What, why? Because he’s better at basketball than you?”

“Yep,” Billy nodded in agreement.

Steve rolled his eyes. “He’s not,” he told Henderson, then turned to him. “You’re not. I just had an off round.”

The gamer operator cleared her throat. They all turned to see her gesture to the second, unused hoop. “Two can play at a time,” the girl informed them.

Steve grinned. “Alright, wanna go at it then, Hargrove? See who’s the better shot?”

He paused for a moment because hearing Steve Harrington utter the words ‘wanna go at it’ felt so surreal that he needed to verify he wasn’t in the Upside Down.

Billy shot a pointed look at the stray basketball in the grass and raised his eyebrows. “All prior experience points to me.”

“Big talker,” Steve said, turning to the game attendant, glancing at her nametag. “Don’t you think, Amy?”

Amy’s eyes darted away, cornered. “I’ll need someone to get that basketball,” she said, instead of answering the question.

“Dude, you know he’s not just talk,” Henderson pointed out. He continued pulling off tufts of cotton candy. Steve lowered his voice, hands moving wildly while muttering something to him.

Billy walked over to pick up the errant basketball, intentionally stepping backwards about twenty feet before taking the shot from behind the backboard.

The net swished. He nailed it.

“Wow,” Amy said, duly impressed.

“Shit, did you see that?” Henderson demanded, nudging Steve and pointing at the basket.

Billy shot Harrington a smarmy grin from where he stood. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, accepting the challenge. “Oh, it’s on. Get your ass over here.”

“I don’t know,” Billy mused, ambling his way back. “I tried giving you a few pointers, doesn’t seem fair to turn around and demolish you.”

“I can take it,” Steve said. He met Billy’s gaze head on, heated and unfaltering.

Breath tightening in his chest, Billy kind of hated Steve Harrington for being everything he wanted.

Henderson sighed. “Let’s go, chop chop. We get it. You’re both intimidating but not really because Steve’s wearing Lacoste. He was team captain though, which brings rank intimidation to the table.”

Billy crossed his arms, head cocked to the side. “If I already know I’m going to win, what’s the point?”

The rest of the party arrived, mobbing around the basketball alley.

“Billy wants to raise the stakes of the game,” Henderson informed them, cotton candy wobbling around as he gestured. “So, what do we got?” he asked, turning to the group at large.

El grinned widely at Billy, waving. He waved back.

“They both use a lot of hair product,” Mike Wheeler piped up from beside her. “What about the dunk tank?”

Sometimes, in times like this, he was reminded that Mike Wheeler was a little bitch.

Max shot a look at Mike’s hair. “So you have heard of hair product,” she said, overly sweet.

Billy considered it a moment of intense pride when he witnessed Max tell Mike Wheeler to fuck off last week as she rolled by on her skateboard, middle fingers up.

“What’s a dunk tank?” El asked, pronouncing the syllables fully.

Will pointed towards the contraption a few stalls over. “Someone sits in that spot there and if a person hits the target, then the other person drops into the water,” he explained.

El eyed the tank. “For fun?”

“Yeah, a Founder Fair staple,” Lucas stated, nodding. “Acceptable ante upping?” he asked Billy.

“Works for me,” he agreed. He passed over his tickets to the attendant.

“Ready?” Harrington asked, pushing up the sleeves of his jacket, more of the moles dotting his pale skin now visible. Billy nodded.

Steve pointed towards the game operator. “Hit it, Amy.”

The game lit up, overhead timer beginning to count down. Billy reached for one of the basketballs and went for it.

He shot and landed basket after basket. In Cali, the weather was almost always perfect. Just one of many things he missed about home. Billy used to spend hours outside practicing.

He never had to think about the motions. They were ingrained in his brain, part of his muscle memory. Not even the Mind Flayer messed that up for him.

He heard the kids shouting in the background, a constant stream of encouragement and heckling for them both.

‘You’re peaceful’, El said, curious, from inside his head and he laughed.

Billy sunk the next shot, felt the reverb from the backboard settle through his entire being.

He stayed focused on his own game, didn’t want to look at Harrington because he’d take up all of his focus, always did. Steve, vibrant and in motion, was something Billy fucking loved to see.

The timer buzzed and he glanced up at his mid-triple-digit score in red sitting next to Harrington’s two-digit result.

“Another one bites the dust,” El said, toneless, definitely picking that up from what she heard in Billy’s head.

Max laughed, delighted as she looked towards him. Billy raised his eyebrows but grinned too, couldn’t help it.

“Rusty?” Billy asked Steve, nodding to the score.

Even when he bowled over Steve on the court, he still shot better than that.

“Apparently,” Steve admitted, glaring at the scores. Then he shrugged. “Not going to lie. Thought the death’s doorstep thing would give me the edge there.”

Billy snorted. “Haven’t you noticed, Harrington? I’m back and better than ever.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Billy faltered in his cocky bravado for a second, caught off guard.

“I can’t believe you were team captain with shooting like that,” Mike said.

“Billy’s going to tutor me,” El said, a pleased smile flitting across her face as she said the words. Max must have let that slip already. She flashed Billy a small smile.

“He could teach you too, Steve. His body remembers. That’s why he’s so good. He could show you.”

Steve’s eyes flicked almost involuntarily over him at the mention. Billy felt it like a palpable drag.

He quirked up an eyebrow, smirk in place. “I can show you whatever you want, Harrington,” he confirmed. Made sure to drop his voice lower and watched as Steve’s face turned blotchy and pink.

“Dunk tank,” Harrington announced abruptly, turning on his heel and heading towards the stand. They all relocated and Billy handed over tickets for the tank, explaining their bet.

Harrington climbed into the seat. He propped his chin up in his hands as he stared Billy down. “No pressure,” he said. “If you miss the target it’ll be pretty embarrassing though.”

Billy shook his head. “I know exactly how to hit the right spot, Harrington.”

He took the baseball, tossed it up and down a few times. Then he licked his lips as he lined up his shot and nailed the target.

Steve dropped, submerged in the water before he popped back up, soaked through. He pushed his slick hair out of his face and Billy’s hands shook slightly with how badly he wanted to touch him.

Grimacing as he got out of the tank, Steve twisted the water from his sodden shirt. The kids chattered about some ride that flipped you upside down as it spun.

“How’d I forget about that Greenwood game?” he said, shaking his head.

Billy liked acting as obnoxious as possible on the court, just outside the limits of fouling, until people got annoyed enough with him to commit the foul themselves.

He sank free throws like he was the goddamn iceberg the Titanic scraped across.

Billy was awarded twenty-two free throws in Greenwood. He made every single one.

“It was forever ago,” he shrugged.

Steve stripped off his jacket. “First time you touched me after that shit at the Byers,” he said, almost absently, to himself. “Kinda forgot it was because you were fucking fire on the court.”

Billy remembered.

High on the win, riding the team energy, he felt free for a moment. In that moment, he forgot that he lost the right to even think about touching Harrington after what he did.

He had reached out after Tommy H. pulled him in, tugged Harrington closer, thumping him on the back.

A normal, post-win celebration on the court.

Nothing out of place. The same thing everyone on the team did around them.

Billy froze after he touched Steve.

Felt the breath punch out of his lungs as Harrington flashed him a smile, bruises long gone. He wrapped his hand around Billy’s bicep, grounding him while leaning into the loose embrace. Smacked a hand against Billy’s back in return.

Then Stan piled onto Billy and it was over.

When he glanced back, he saw Harrington flex his fingers, meeting Billy’s gaze without flinching.

He thought about it for weeks afterwards. He remembered.

Harrington shook his head, flinging water around and carrying on like he didn’t just say he thought about the time Billy put his hands on him while forgetting the context.

As if that was a normal thing to say.

As if he didn’t just stop all of Billy’s functional processing ability.

He couldn’t look away from the way Harrington’s wet clothes clung to his body. Navy shirt plastered to his chest, long and lean. Those jeans bordering indecent where the material bulged. He was fucking gorgeous.

“Jesus, now my pants are almost as tight as yours,” he said, complaining with a gesture, as if Billy wasn’t already looking.

A trickle of water dripped its way down Steve’s temple, sliding over his jaw and along the column of his neck. Billy watched it the whole way and startled at the sight of Harrington’s eyes on him as his throat worked, swallowing hard.

Steve pushed his hair back again even though it was already in place, the strands wet and cooperative at the moment.

“Go time,” Henderson said, shoving his gigantic cotton candy towards Harrington as the kids lined up to get on the death trap ride. Billy and Steve waited for them at the gate.

Steve ripped off a piece of the cotton candy and Billy clenched his teeth together at the sight of him curling his tongue around the spun sugar.

“I knew I was going to lose,” Harrington admitted, forearms resting on the metal as everyone boarded the ride.

Billy snorted. “We all knew you were going to lose.” The attendant checked everyone’s seat belts. “Why’d you still do it?” he asked.

“You look happy when you play,” Steve said, turning towards him. “Wanted to see it.”

“Why?” Billy managed, sounding only slightly strangled. If Harrington gut checked him with a basketball he would have held his composure better than this.

Steve’s lips quirked upwards, pulling the birthmarks on the left side of his mouth into the smile. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

They watched the ride go up and Steve rubbed at his bare arms, goosebumps visible in the artificial light.

Billy shrugged out of his leather jacket and shoved it towards him without looking.

“Here.”

Steve squinted at it and then at him. “It’ll get wet,” he objected, nudging it back.

Billy pushed it closer. “Just put it on, Harrington,” he sighed.

Steve took the jacket, fingers brushing against Billy’s as he closed them around the worn leather. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and pulled the front together.

Neither of them looked at each other as the ride began to spin and everyone shrieked.

Billy’s hands trembled again.

The kids talked over each other about how great the ride was and got in line to go again. “I need a smoke,” Billy said, stepping back from the rail. He tipped his head to the side so Max knew he was wandering off.

“I hope that was an offer,” Harrington said.

Billy flashed him a smile, tongue darting across his lips. “Always a standing offer for you, pretty boy.”

He glanced around for somewhere to go as Steve waved at the kids. Billy found a place near the edge of the fairgrounds where they stored the spare trailers.

Little fall-colored string lights hung over them even there. He balanced a cigarette between his lips and lit up.

Billy offered the pack to Harrington but he bypassed it, reaching out to take the one from his mouth.

The tips of his fingers grazed Billy’s lips. “Figure it out yet?” he asked, before he took a drag.

Harrington blew the smoke out and up.

Billy felt a little stupid from the image of a soaking wet Steve Harrington, head tipped back, smoke flooding between his lips while wearing his jacket.

He reached out, his palm flat across Harrington’s chest, fabric cool and damp as he gently pushed him against the side of the trailer.

“Am I on the right track?” he asked.

“Yeah, you’re getting there,” Steve confirmed, holding out the cigarette for him.

Billy wrapped his lips around it and inhaled, eyes fixed on Steve.

On the water clumping his eyelashes together, dark eyes bright, almost glowing under the lights. On the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath Billy’s hand. On the way he couldn’t seem to look away from him either.

He balled his hand into Steve’s shirt as he stepped forward, sliding his knee between his legs, pinning him in place.

Billy nudged his nose against Steve’s jaw. Harrington made a soft noise as he went with the motion, resting his head back against the siding.

“What about now?” Billy asked. He slipped his other hand into Steve’s hair, soft and slick, tugging as he asked the question.

“Fuck,” Steve said, breathily. “Come on. I’m not a Rubik’s Cube, man. At most I’m one of those block puzzles with like six pieces.”

He smirked and knew Steve felt his lips against the skin on his neck, his long fingers tangling with Billy’s necklace.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Harrington,” Billy said, pulling back slightly. “At least 100 pieces. You make a pretty picture but you’re mostly edges. Everyone knows those are the best part.”

Steve blinked at him, a little dazed. Then he sighed. “At this rate you’re going to die again before I ever get your fucking mouth on me,” he said, surging forward to kiss him.

Billy tightened the grip in his wet hair, hand clenching at the sensation of Steve Harrington’s mouth against his, intent and demanding, perfect.

He wanted this since he saw Harrington at that fucking Halloween party. Wanted him.

Never thought he’d get to know what Steve Harrington sounded like, moaning his name. What he looked like, eyes-half lidded, mouth swollen and kiss bitten. What he felt like, the contours of his body under Billy’s hands.

Never thought that he’d get to bite at his jugular and feel the noises he made against his throat, that he’d get to open his mouth and taste Steve Harrington on his tongue.

That Steve Harrington would ask to play a game he knew he’d lose because he wanted to see Billy happy.

They each lit new cigarettes and finished them off before heading back into the throng of the fairgrounds to track the kids down. The party sat scattered around a bench, eating ridiculously oversized cream puffs.

Max pushed a red-checkered, cardboard tray towards him. “Found you a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she said, casually with masked pride.

Billy picked it up and took a bite. “Shit, that’s good,” he said through his mouthful, surprised.

El studied him for a moment, her gaze sliding to Steve and then resting on Billy. ‘You finally noticed,’ she said in his head.

Billy looked up at her and she grinned. ‘You noticed he was looking back.’

They both turned to where Steve had his right hand spread across Dustin’s indignant face, holding him an arm’s length away as he stole a bite of the cream puff. Billy rolled his eyes and continued eating his sandwich.

“Really, eleventh now?” Will asked, missing the mark for upset. He looked pretty pleased with the development.

Billy laughed. Mike frowned at him from across the table. “Why’s your shirt all wet?”

“So fucking stupid,” Max muttered, sighing loudly.

Everyone finished up and finally seemed to droop, worn out by fluctuating adrenaline and sugar crashes.

“Alright, time to go,” Steve said, shuffling the kids towards the exit.

Lucas high-fived Billy after saying bye to Max and clambering into the BMW. Dustin bowed like the weirdo he was while Mike just waved from inside the car. Will gave Billy a quick hug before darting away.

El’s hug lingered. “You’ll come over to teach me?” she asked again, already asked twice inside, like she didn’t quite believe she lucked out with Billy as a tutor.

He didn’t point out he never tutored anyone before and it was probably going to turn into him going off on tangents about how he found Catcher in the Rye overrated or that history books were written by the victors.

“We’ll start next week,” he promised. “I’ll come over early on movie night.” She climbed into the car too then, satisfied with his response.

Harrington stood by the driver’s door of his BMW, arm resting on the frame. “Think I could use some basketball refreshers,” he said.

“I told you to keep your elbow up,” Billy reminded him.

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, but I need a lot of help. You saw me out there.”

“You asking for private lessons?” Billy asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Saw Harrington’s eyes drop at the motion to sweep over him appreciatively.

Steve grinned. “Heard your body remembers. Think you can show me?”

“Oh my God,” Max muttered. She thumped her head back against the passenger side headrest and Billy remembered he left the windows open.

“He already said he’d show you. He’d love to show you,” she said. “Anytime, anywhere. Pick one so we can leave. I already hurled once tonight and if I smell any more fried food I’m going to do it again.”

“When did you throw up?” Steve asked, confused.

Max rested her chin on the window ledge. “After the teacups, Billy spun us around so fast. It was amazing.”

He shook his head at her. “Friday, six-thirty,” Steve said, pointing at Billy.

“See you then, pretty boy.”

When they got home, Max hung up her jacket and Billy realized Harrington still had his. He shook his head in disbelief as he went to brush his teeth.

Billy looked up when he saw Max through the mirror. “I know your dad made you take me tonight but I had a lot of fun,” she said, staring at the ground as she dragged her mint colored sock across the tile.

“With you, shithead,” she added, spitting the words out quickly, like if she didn’t say them now she wouldn’t ever say them.

“Same here, you fuckin’ gremlin,” Billy garbled, toothbrush still in his mouth.

Max brightened up. Still holding that giant clown fish in her arms, she hugged him. Billy tried not to get any toothpaste in her hair.

“I named it Limelight,” Max told him, holding up the fish. Of fucking course she did.

When Billy made it to his room, shirt half pulled over his head, he saw the hideous, misshapen fish on his bed. He stared at it. Stared at it as the hours ticked by.

Billy didn’t acknowledge it, but he knew he wasn’t alone, not anymore.

At 2 AM, he tucked Limelight under the covers with his sister. Wanted to make sure she knew it too.


End file.
